Kids being kids, they like to go "exploring" new places. Sometimes some of those places are a place where they are'nt supposed to be. Abondoned farm houses and barns, caves, construction sites, and tunnels.
The summer we were 12 years old, we went off with our baloon tired bikes with the basket on the front for such needed items as surplus canvas GI packs, sandwiches, canteens of water, a sling shot, and in this case a flashlight and a length of rope. There was some woods down the road where they were going to build a housing developement a few years before, but put it on hold. The woods had overgrown the constrution site, and we had discovered a manhole in a concrete pad in the woods, and were off to explore where the concrete tunnel went off to. There was no handhold of any kind in the side of the shaft gong down several feet to the tunnel that ran off in a northern direction, so we needed to lower a rope to climb down. My friend across the street, Everett Snyder got a long hemp rope his dad had in the basement, so off we went. Ev, me, and Jeff Greenfield, and Bobby Ryerson.
We got there and it was at that time just a few paths bulldozed through the woods, with a clearing here and there. We stashed our bikes and lifted off the manhole cover and looked down. We had planed well, and dragging a log over the hole, we tied off the rope and dropped it down the hole. We had also taken the added step of tying a knot in the rope every foot or so to aid in climbing back out. One by one we shinnied down the rope into the dark, till there was just Bobby left, looking down on us.
"Come on, stop holding us up!" yelled Jeff.
"Uh, I don't know if this is a good idea." said Bobby, still lokking down but making no move to grab the rope and join us.
"Well, stay there if ya want, scaredy cat, but if we find any treasure your not getting any!" Ev yelled back up at Bobby. Why there would be any treasure in a conrete pipe linned tunnel for water or sewer drainage I never figured out. But it swayed Bobby, he slipped over the edge and came down the rope like a pro. We headed off in the darkness led by the probing beams of our surplus GI angle head flashlights. the dim yellow beam left alot to be desired by modern LED standards.
We walked along and the pipe was big enough we could almost stand strait up, and after a couple of minutes we came to a dead end. Just a wall of earth. They had stopped construction on the site, so had simply bulldozed earth into the trench at the end of the pipe they had laid so far. We headed back, a bit disappointed that our exploration was ended so soon. Maybe we had hoped to find a passage to someplace interesting, but why there would be a underground passage to someplace interesting had never crossed our innocent Opie Taylor like young minds. We went back to our rope.
Hemp rope is a good rope, and this was the days before nylon took over the market. Hemp is strong, when new. Problem was this was not a new rope. In fact nobody was sure just how long it had been laying under the workbench down the basement.
Getting back to our rope, Jeff went up using the knots as handholds, and then it was my turn. Bobby camne up next with no problem. Ev got a few feet up the rope and it broke, sending him sprawling at the bottom of the entry shaft. Ev being the bigest and stoutest of us, I guess it was just too much for the old rope. He was okay from his short fall, but a little worried about getting out as he looked up the shaft at us. We tried to tie the rope together, and he tossed up the broken off part and we tied it and lowered it. It was just long enough that he could reach it, but when he tried to had over hand it up, the rope broke again.
"Come on guys, get me outta here!" he yelled up at us.
"Hey maybe we can drop ya some cans of beans, and you can fart your way up like a rocket!" Jeff told him. Ev was well known for his audible displays after dinning on campfire beans.
"Not funny man, ya gotta get me out".
We thought about it. It was along way back to town and a store where we could buy a rope, but we did'nt have alot of money. We made some plans to swipe a ladder from old man Gruebbers back yard where he kept his garnding tools for his orchard.
"We could build a ladder" said Bobby.
"Oh yeah, I'll just set up the table saw over there, go find me a electric plug will ya." retorted Jeff.
But I looked at bobby and saw he was serious, and I thought he was on to something. At this point in our lives, Mr. Van had been our scoutmaster for only 6 months, but you learned fast with Mr. Van. In fact you could say Mr. Van was like one of those immersion courses for laguages. You sank or swam with Mr. Van.
"No wait, I think he's right." I told Jeff.
Jeff was not in our scout troop, so he was sceptical, but he was willing to help us. We told Ev to stay put and told him what we were going to do. Me and Bobby set about our task. We looked around and tried to decide what sapplings to cut down. There was Oak, maple, poplar, some hornbeam down by the creek. Then I remembered something from my childhood. Poplar was popular for boat poles in marshes and creeks because the saplings grew so strait, and they had good end to end strengh.
We set to cutting with our pocket knives, notching around the base of a couple of 12 to 14 foot saplings that had good thickness to be strong enough for the ladder sides. Poplar cuts easy and it was not long before we had two long poles. We cut a third one to use for the short pieces across, and it was not long before we had the makings. Our scout knives were sharp, and made short work of the green wood. We'd been with Mr. Van long enough to learn that, even Bobby.
We needed lashings.
The three strand hemp was good for that. We had Ev toss the broken rope up to us, and we unraveled it. Soon we had some long lengths of curley hemp that tied on the ladder steps, and we lowered it down the hole. It was long enough with a foot or so sticking out the top of the hole. But when Ev stepped on the ladder and started to climb, the green wood sagged in an alarming fashion. It went down to only a couple inches over the hole. Ev got off the ladder.
"You're too heavy!" Jeff told him.
"Toss up your pack" I told him.
Ev tossed up his pack and we were surpised at the heft of it.
"What all do ya have in here?" asked Jeff.
"Just my supplies!" said Ev. It figured, Ev liked to eat, and he could always be realied on to have an extra sandwich or three.
The weight without his pack on made a difference and Ev climbed out of the shaft. We felt very proud of ourselves, and Ev told Bobby he took back every harsh word he's ever said to him. So for a brief time Bobby Ryerson was a hero for thinking up the idea of how to build a ladder. Then when Mr. Van heard our tale he called us a bunch of boneheads for messing around old construction sites with abandoned sewer tunnels. But he saved our ladder, that he drove over to get with his old pannel truck. He put it in the church next to the case that held our scouting awards, with a sign on it saying "Be prepared, or know how to improvise!"
The summer we were 12 years old, we went off with our baloon tired bikes with the basket on the front for such needed items as surplus canvas GI packs, sandwiches, canteens of water, a sling shot, and in this case a flashlight and a length of rope. There was some woods down the road where they were going to build a housing developement a few years before, but put it on hold. The woods had overgrown the constrution site, and we had discovered a manhole in a concrete pad in the woods, and were off to explore where the concrete tunnel went off to. There was no handhold of any kind in the side of the shaft gong down several feet to the tunnel that ran off in a northern direction, so we needed to lower a rope to climb down. My friend across the street, Everett Snyder got a long hemp rope his dad had in the basement, so off we went. Ev, me, and Jeff Greenfield, and Bobby Ryerson.
We got there and it was at that time just a few paths bulldozed through the woods, with a clearing here and there. We stashed our bikes and lifted off the manhole cover and looked down. We had planed well, and dragging a log over the hole, we tied off the rope and dropped it down the hole. We had also taken the added step of tying a knot in the rope every foot or so to aid in climbing back out. One by one we shinnied down the rope into the dark, till there was just Bobby left, looking down on us.
"Come on, stop holding us up!" yelled Jeff.
"Uh, I don't know if this is a good idea." said Bobby, still lokking down but making no move to grab the rope and join us.
"Well, stay there if ya want, scaredy cat, but if we find any treasure your not getting any!" Ev yelled back up at Bobby. Why there would be any treasure in a conrete pipe linned tunnel for water or sewer drainage I never figured out. But it swayed Bobby, he slipped over the edge and came down the rope like a pro. We headed off in the darkness led by the probing beams of our surplus GI angle head flashlights. the dim yellow beam left alot to be desired by modern LED standards.
We walked along and the pipe was big enough we could almost stand strait up, and after a couple of minutes we came to a dead end. Just a wall of earth. They had stopped construction on the site, so had simply bulldozed earth into the trench at the end of the pipe they had laid so far. We headed back, a bit disappointed that our exploration was ended so soon. Maybe we had hoped to find a passage to someplace interesting, but why there would be a underground passage to someplace interesting had never crossed our innocent Opie Taylor like young minds. We went back to our rope.
Hemp rope is a good rope, and this was the days before nylon took over the market. Hemp is strong, when new. Problem was this was not a new rope. In fact nobody was sure just how long it had been laying under the workbench down the basement.
Getting back to our rope, Jeff went up using the knots as handholds, and then it was my turn. Bobby camne up next with no problem. Ev got a few feet up the rope and it broke, sending him sprawling at the bottom of the entry shaft. Ev being the bigest and stoutest of us, I guess it was just too much for the old rope. He was okay from his short fall, but a little worried about getting out as he looked up the shaft at us. We tried to tie the rope together, and he tossed up the broken off part and we tied it and lowered it. It was just long enough that he could reach it, but when he tried to had over hand it up, the rope broke again.
"Come on guys, get me outta here!" he yelled up at us.
"Hey maybe we can drop ya some cans of beans, and you can fart your way up like a rocket!" Jeff told him. Ev was well known for his audible displays after dinning on campfire beans.
"Not funny man, ya gotta get me out".
We thought about it. It was along way back to town and a store where we could buy a rope, but we did'nt have alot of money. We made some plans to swipe a ladder from old man Gruebbers back yard where he kept his garnding tools for his orchard.
"We could build a ladder" said Bobby.
"Oh yeah, I'll just set up the table saw over there, go find me a electric plug will ya." retorted Jeff.
But I looked at bobby and saw he was serious, and I thought he was on to something. At this point in our lives, Mr. Van had been our scoutmaster for only 6 months, but you learned fast with Mr. Van. In fact you could say Mr. Van was like one of those immersion courses for laguages. You sank or swam with Mr. Van.
"No wait, I think he's right." I told Jeff.
Jeff was not in our scout troop, so he was sceptical, but he was willing to help us. We told Ev to stay put and told him what we were going to do. Me and Bobby set about our task. We looked around and tried to decide what sapplings to cut down. There was Oak, maple, poplar, some hornbeam down by the creek. Then I remembered something from my childhood. Poplar was popular for boat poles in marshes and creeks because the saplings grew so strait, and they had good end to end strengh.
We set to cutting with our pocket knives, notching around the base of a couple of 12 to 14 foot saplings that had good thickness to be strong enough for the ladder sides. Poplar cuts easy and it was not long before we had two long poles. We cut a third one to use for the short pieces across, and it was not long before we had the makings. Our scout knives were sharp, and made short work of the green wood. We'd been with Mr. Van long enough to learn that, even Bobby.
We needed lashings.
The three strand hemp was good for that. We had Ev toss the broken rope up to us, and we unraveled it. Soon we had some long lengths of curley hemp that tied on the ladder steps, and we lowered it down the hole. It was long enough with a foot or so sticking out the top of the hole. But when Ev stepped on the ladder and started to climb, the green wood sagged in an alarming fashion. It went down to only a couple inches over the hole. Ev got off the ladder.
"You're too heavy!" Jeff told him.
"Toss up your pack" I told him.
Ev tossed up his pack and we were surpised at the heft of it.
"What all do ya have in here?" asked Jeff.
"Just my supplies!" said Ev. It figured, Ev liked to eat, and he could always be realied on to have an extra sandwich or three.
The weight without his pack on made a difference and Ev climbed out of the shaft. We felt very proud of ourselves, and Ev told Bobby he took back every harsh word he's ever said to him. So for a brief time Bobby Ryerson was a hero for thinking up the idea of how to build a ladder. Then when Mr. Van heard our tale he called us a bunch of boneheads for messing around old construction sites with abandoned sewer tunnels. But he saved our ladder, that he drove over to get with his old pannel truck. He put it in the church next to the case that held our scouting awards, with a sign on it saying "Be prepared, or know how to improvise!"
When ya look back I think a lot of us are just amazed we are even here today. Good thing you guys had Mr. Van as a mentor. Bobby may have been a mess, but it seems he picked up some important things from Mr. Van and actually was able to think of them when needed.
.